


Years Later, You Laugh

by DetectiveRoboRyan



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Absurdly Fluffy and I'm Not Sorry, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Giftstuck 2015, Long-Distance Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 08:22:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5449820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DetectiveRoboRyan/pseuds/DetectiveRoboRyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Latula has never seen the girl she's in love with-- though she decides she'll never say she is, because that'd be weird. But in the end, she's glad she said it anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Years Later, You Laugh

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pyrrhic_victoly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrrhic_victoly/gifts).



Grimalkin33 types with perfect syntax. They were your 48th subscriber, which you remember because that was the day you checked your subscriber count on your phone with your left hand because you'd gotten road rash all over your right forearm trying to kickflip when you were thirteen and the nurse wasn't letting you move it. You remember grinning proudly to yourself, distracted enough that the antiseptic didn't sting so much.  
  
They need video subtitles. They asked on part four of your playthrough of _Octodad: Dadliest Catch_ and you made sure to put them on every video after. That was the night you stayed up until five in the morning editing them into every other video, too.  
  
You don't know much about them, since their only videos are AMVs and speedpaints of cartoon characters to Vocaloid songs. They like and comment on science news and seminars (mostly about medicine and psychology and veterinary studies) and Hetalia episodes in equal measure, which was a bit of a weird mix but oddly enough, it charms you. They're kind and optimistic, you notice in their comments on your videos, but if their comments on the science videos are any indication, they're also a certified genius.  
  
They suggest you play a Professor Layton game. You find yourself rummaging the internet for a decent download of one before you've replied to the comment. You thank them when you record the first part.  
  
They say you're welcome. You can't help but feel the beginning of something incredible. You decide you won't tell them, though— that'd be weird. (Years later, you laugh.)  
  
You love every game they suggest. They email you a list of games they think you may like, with a message.  
  
 _Contact me again anytime! Your laugh is really cute, by the way.~_  
  
It's the summer before your junior year of high school and you're at the water cooler after basketball practice. You don't think you've ever been so flustered. (You make your subtitles easier to read— bigger, in white text with a black outline.)  
  
You email them every day, pretty much. You don't think you're using email for quite the intended purpose, since you always send bursts of messages in single-thought format sent six seconds apart because you remember you want to add something right after your thumb hits the 'send' button. (Sometimes your thoughts are too fast for you to quite catch.) It becomes what you do on the bus.  
  
You learn a bit about them. Grimalkin33 currently identifies as female but is keeping her options open, and she wants to be a doctor, though she's not sure of what yet. She's your age (gasp!) but hasn't said where she lives and you haven't asked either, because that'd be a little weird. She thinks the way you send your messages is funny (you blush when you read this) but maybe it'd be better to text?  
  
You exchange numbers. This is the sort of thing friends do, right?  
  
You're not sure, but you think you might be crushing. Just a little bit. This is the sort of thing you will never ever tell her, you say to yourself. (Years later, you laugh.)  
  
You call her Grimmy. You think it's a cute nickname, and to your relief, she does, too— though now she won't tell you her real name, and teases you when you protest. You swear you can hear her laughter through the words, and to you, it's as sweet as hot chocolate.  
  
She reccomends shows for you now, mostly things you've never heard of, since you really only watch TV for sports. There's a surprising amount of anime, and you find yourself up at five in the morning with tears on your cheeks for these characters on more than one occasion. You throw yourself into whatever she reccomends like you throw yourself into everything you do— gaming and skating and basketball and even your schoolwork (your performance isn't the best, but nobody can say you haven't given your all)— because _dammit_ , she's worth it, and it's worth it if it makes you feel like you know her a little bit better.  
  
It's days after your graduation when she goes to camp for two weeks and you realize how she makes you feel— because when she isn't there, there's an empty spot in your world that follows you wherever you go and you have to wonder how you ever missed it before.  
  
(You're relieved when she comes back. That's the dangerous thing about friends made online— they do have lives of their own, and more than likely, you won't know why the messages just stop one day if they ever do. You think about that, perhaps, more than is healthy.)  
  
You think you may be in love. You decide you'll never tell her.  
  
(Years later, you laugh.)  
  
You learn that she's from Georgia when you're eighteen and picking classes to take at the local community college. And then you learn that she's going to college in your city (!!!) and resist the urge to jump out of your chair.  
  
You wonder if you'll ever run into her by accident, when you're downtown for work or to hang out with friends. You entertain the pink-tinged thought of bumping into her by chance outside of a tea shop or a bakery or something. You'd be confused and apologetic at first, but then your eyes would meet and she'd recognize you— since she's been watching you play video games for five years. And she would say _well, it's good to finally meet you,_ and then it would click that this is the girl you've been daydreaming about all this time.  
  
You wonder if she'd even like you that way, though— and then you wonder just when you became a romantic sap.  
  
You never run into her that way, though.  
  
But you do run into her one day— you're twenty-one and it's April and you're waiting for the bus to take you to the rec center, because the courts at the college are booked and you have to be at basketball practice before the kids get there (otherwise what kind of coach are you), and you remember that she's just started on her medical degree (she's decided on neuropsychology, which you still have trouble spelling) and she's usually done with morning classes by that time anyway so you figure you can ask how that's going— and you hit 'send' and put your phone back in your pocket and wait for her response.  
  
There's a short girl with this wild mane of curls as red as cherries standing next to you on one side, freckles covering her face and her hands like stripes on a tiger, carrying heavy-looking books in a pink shoulder bag with little charms dangling from the zippers. She pulls out her phone a second after your message sends, but you're not really paying attention— you have your earbuds in, glancing down the busy city road through red-tinted sunglasses and tying your dreads back with three hair ties because one is never enough for your hair. Your phone buzzes a second later, so you pull it out and swipe to read the message.  
  
She says she just finished class and she's going to take the bus to a sandwich shop for lunch. You chuckle. _same_ , you say, though you're not going to lunch, you're going to practice.  
  
You send the message. This time you turn your head when the girl next to you takes out her phone again— you know it's rude to look at other people's phones, but that's your name at the top of her screen and she's glanced up at you before you can look away.  
  
She stares up at you, with these big green eyes— you stare back and feel your face heating up. _It's her_ , everything in you is screaming. And somehow it just seems so incredibly _right_ that this pudgy college student with the pink-framed reading glasses clipped onto the collar of her green cable sweater with the pushed-up sleeves is the same girl you first met when she asked you about subtitles for your videos all those years ago.  
  
Your heart races. You're in love with her— but you'll never admit it.  
  
(Years later, you laugh.)  
  
A grin spreads across her face. "Well," she said, in a voice just a smidge louder than it needed to be even with the city noise, "It's good to finally meet you!"  
  
You feel an immense sense of relief, and fight the urge to crush her in a hug right then and there. "You know," you chuckle. "For a minute there, I was worried you were talking to some other Latula!"  
  
"How many other Latulas are there, though?" she replied, arching an eyebrow and then bursting into giggles. You feel like a teenager smitten with a girl you've never met all over again.  
  
"Not many," you admit, shifting the basketball under your arm. "So, Grimmy. You think I can know your name now?"  
  
"I guess I've teased you long enough," Grimmy shrugged, her lips still pulled into a grin that reminded you of a kitten. "It's Meulin Lejion! Still working on the doctor part, though."  
  
You nod, and shift your weight on the balls of your feet. "Well, Meulin Lejion," you say, taking in a breath. "How about we get some rad snackage together sometime? As a celebration for finally meeting." _Unless you're not alright with that and think it's creepy_ , you add in your head, but you don't say it.  
  
"That sounds great," she nods, giving you a smile that makes your heart melt. If she noticed the fact that you said 'rad snackage,' she doesn't let on. "Is it the flirting kind of date?"  
  
"Grimmy, I need to say something crazy," you admit. "I have been crushing on you in the mega-hardest way for… well, 'forevs' doesn't even cover it."  
  
"Can I say something crazier?" she asks. "Me, too."  
  
It's years later, and you laugh.  
  
You're glad you told her.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay it's been like 15 years since I last wrote Homestuck fic but!!! I did it!!!
> 
> (second person POV is so hard after working in third for so long orz)


End file.
